


a broken doll

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Genre: ASPD, Agender Character, Agender Sasori (Naruto), Angst, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Crying, Death, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, I Made Myself Cry, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Low/No Empathy, Please Don't Hate Me, So much angst, Sociopathic character, Sociopathy, Suicide, That's what I get for writing down my existential crisis, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, What Have I Done, Whew aren't these tags just a ray of sunshine, self-hate, they look Edgy™, wow look at these tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:41:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sasori is still a broken doll, a useless, dirty, stupid, lonely, cracked and shattered, small and bony, idiotic lump, just a pathetic bit of junk, yes - they're a useless broken doll, finally getting what they deserve.And nobody wants a broken doll.(ASPD!Sasori)





	a broken doll

**Author's Note:**

> Just some poorly concealed venting from yours truly featuring agender!ASPD!Sasori. Please read the tags because there are a lot of triggers.
> 
> Also! It's depressing as fuck. Feel free to call it edgy depending on your definition. I don't really care, and considering that it's basically everything wrong with me but shoved into Sasori, I'm surprised it's not even worse. 
> 
> I'LL STRESS IT AGAIN - THIS IS NOT GOOD. IT'S PROBABLY HORRIBLE AND OOC AND DEPRESSING. IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR AN ACTUAL SAMPLE OF MY WRITING, LOOK AT BLOOD AND ROSES OR GNOSSIENNE, NOT THIS SHIT.

Sasori thought they were normal.

Well, not normal, per se. They knew they were different because their body was wrong, would not do what they wanted it to. It was so stupid. But that wasn't it, not really. Because that wasn't something that affected them terribly, they simply didn't care about that.

They didn't follow society like they were supposed to. That's what their teacher said.

They were special, a bit different. That's what Chiyo said.

They thought they were normal for a long time, until the first person came to question their art. They talked to them, were reasonably civil but simultaneously disgusted.

"Don't you empathize with the people you're making as puppets?"

Sasori tilts their head. "No. They're dead, mostly, and I am recreating them, so they don't have emotions anymore. Why would I need to understand their emotions when they don't have any anymore?"

The person just scoffs and walks off. Sasori shakes it off, but feels unsettled for the rest of the day, a bad feeling in the pit of their stomach.

They ask Granny Chiyo what she thinks empathy is. She turns to him, frowning. "Why?"

"I was curious," they lie.

"Well, I think it's when you walk past someone and you kind of... feel what they're feeling." Chiyo nods decisively. "Yes, like that."

Oh. That explains… everything. "...I see."

"That sate your curiosity?" Chiyo reaches down and ruffles Sasori's hair. "You can ask your parents when they get home, too."

Sasori nearly scoffs. Ha, as if. They already know Chiyo is lying, but they leave her fancies intact for respect's sake.

They walk off, numb, cold. That night, they leave the house quietly, a few scrolls under their arms, meaning to go out and practice. Instead, they sink to the ground in front of the house, unable to cry, or even feel anything.

Sasori is a broken person. They only wish they could be fixed with a wrench and a loving touch, like a puppet.

They look up at the sky and wonder. Then they decide.

The next day, they create the puppet. Flat, a block of wood as the torso. Genderless. That's good.

They proof the puppet. They flood it with chakra, check it to the blueprint a thousand times, test and remake it.

It takes half a year. Half a year in which they excel more than ever, in which the village authorities start to notice them and they start to be elevated as a prodigy. So much potential, people say. Sasori doesn't want potential. They don't care about the jobs that potential could give him. They don't want to be Kazekage. They don't want potential, they want to be normal.

Setting up the puppet takes three months and a half.

The transfer takes five minutes.

When Sasori wakes up, there is no going back, and they have never been more determined.

That night, scrolls under their arms, they step outside and they walk. They just walk, never ceasing, never taking a break, ageless body plodding on through the sands. Nobody stops them. Nobody even cares or is affected that they are leaving, so they just start walking and it seems like they'll never stop, chasing the endlessly distant horizon.

It doesn't work, and the disappointment feels like poison.

Two miles out from Suna, they fall to their knees and begin to sob, dry heaves forcing the sounds out of their mouth as they cry without tears. The sky opens up like a huge dome, glittering darkly above them. The sand around them stretches to infinity, the dunes only making slight arcs against the horizon. There is no sound. The world has opened up, and it is beautiful, but...

They still do not walk past and feel like another person. They still do not feel empathy. They'd figured that if they can't feel for others, they might as well not feel at all, but…

Sasori is still a broken doll, and broken dolls are useless, broken dolls are stupid and belong in the garbage before their sharp porcelain edges cut you, and once a doll is truly broken, nothing can fix them. All because you dropped them wrong, or perhaps they were just made that way, flawed since the moment of inception. The porcelain has chipped off. Now it can never come back.

It doesn't matter how pretty or clever or gifted or prodigious it was, doesn't matter how charming and unique with its pretty hand-painted porcelain, because it is broken, and broken means it is useless and stupid and idiotic, means it's lonely and cracked and doesn't deserve what it has, and will never be worth anything more than a handful of dirt, will never be liked, will never be fun to play with.

And the kids that do pick it up must be either pitying it, poor, or just plain stupid. Nobody takes a second look at a broken doll. Nobody even pays half-price for cracked porcelain. Even Sasori wouldn't fight with a broken doll.

They sob, wooden shoulders shuddering with each new breath. They want to feel tears, but they gave that up for the perfect body so they make do with the painful, drawn-out shudders of a life unwanted.

Somewhere out in the desert, a bird of some kind chirps.

They don't want the world. They don't want beauty. They don't want talent, creativity, style, fame, praise, or even friends. They don't care about all that!

They want to feel, and they want their parents back!

They spend the night crying in the middle of nowhere. They don't get hungry or tired. They just exist in misery, unable to even escape in sleep.

Worst of all, nobody comes looking for them, because nobody cares about a broken doll.

In the morning, they get up and carry on.

The world spins on, dizzyingly fast, and Sasori latches onto it desperately. They upgrade Hiruko and hide in it when they feel like they are about to explode. It works.

Sort of.

(It's good enough. It's more than what they deserve, anyways.)

In a blur, it passes, being hired by the Akatsuki. They hired Sasori to be useful, not to have themself pulled together, and they do not offer support. If you have problems in the Akatsuki, you deal with them between missions, silently, or with your partner. They're paired with Deidara and this time they make sure to paint themselves over and fix themselves up and glue all the shattered pieces together because this is a fresh start, but nobody will want to play with a broken doll. Deidara buys it.

Sasori is jealous of Deidara. He is flamboyant, his personality matching his art. It is so full of feeling. That's why Sasori loves it, loves him, like the little brother they never had, because when they see the explosions, they can feel again.

Is this empathy?

Still, everything in moderation. Sometimes they look away because they're sick of crying, even though Deidara can't tell - after all, there are no tears, nor will there ever be again. They get attached - bad idea, but oh, the feeling. It's like a rush, like light after years of darkness, like a song after decades of monotone. They're not sure whether they would survive losing it, so they make sure that Deidara doesn't take too long out there, just in case.

Just in case. Ah, yes, another feeling. Terror. Sasori's never felt it before.

The day they kidnap Gaara, Sasori's been in Hiruko for weeks now. The porcelain pieces lie here and there, but they're all in the same vicinity and they're pretty big so it's fine, it's all fine, we're fine, I'm fine, you're fine.

It's not fine, but Sasori would never say that out loud. They're so, so sick of crying. They're so damn tired.

They hear explosions from the village and terror fills their heart, a desolate and inconsolable worry that Deidara won't come back. But they keep up the illusion of a perfect doll, stoic and calm, if a bit irritated.

They kidnap Gaara and all goes well, though Sasori had to repress the urge to scream when Deidara trudged up, beaten and bloodied, with an arm missing. All that came out of their mouth was, "you kept me waiting."

Damn it, they're crying again.

Stop crying, you idiot, they berate themself for the millionth time. How can you even cry when you don't feel? This doesn't make any sense. Crying won't fix that you're a broken doll and nothing in the world can ever fix that. Stop crying. Stop crying, damn it!

It takes a long time to accept that they can cry and still feel empty, can sob and still kill without remorse. They are selfish, childish tears. Why are you still crying over something that will never change? You should have accepted it by now. They aren't even crying because they're guilty for being broken, for killing and not feeling. They never asked for that, anyway. They don't even know why they're crying. Maybe just because it's all so futile.

Selfish! Selfish! Selfish little doll, you don't even care about anyone else, all you do is mope about how your porcelain is cracked! You don't care about how your empathy affects others! You don't care about anyone but yourself! Selfish! Selfish! DIE! 

They wish Deidara could tell. He would care, they are sure he would. If only he could see, Deidara would help because he's an empathetic person. The kind of person who would be a model citizen if he wasn't a goddamn terrorist. He's not a therapist, but he would help.

But no. The Akatsuki doesn't care about your personal issues.

They see their chance when Chiyo fights them, along with that pink-haired girl. They fight for a while, but their heart isn't really in it, otherwise the two would be dead already. So they make it look like they're trying, third Kazekage and everything, and throughout the battle they shove that thought to the back of their mind but ultimately they know what's coming.

They put on a big show. Hundred puppets, crazy screaming and the like. The puppets animate them a bit, giving them determination and motivation, just enough. 

Sorry, Deidara. 

The swords puncture their heart, which starts to drop with venom. Of course. No blood, of course, that would be much too human. From the second it was breached, they were doomed.

Their parents are on either side of them. They feel... warm. Resigned.

They sigh, feeling like a rock at the bottom of a river, unaffected by the flow, like they've drifted to the bottom of the sea and now can just stay there, forever. That sounds nice.

They impart their last knowledge in a final attempt to prove to themselves that they can be nice. It fails, comes off as condescending.

Sasori falls to the ground, face hidden by the rock. Their puppet is smashed, broken.

A broken doll.

But they are surrounded by their parents.

A useless broken doll.

Perhaps they shouldn't have. They don't deserve this, certainly, but they've never been selfless.

Sasori is still a broken doll, a useless, dirty, stupid, lonely, cracked and shattered, small and bony, idiotic lump, just a pathetic bit of junk, yes - they're a useless broken doll, finally getting what they deserve.

And nobody wants a broken doll.

**Author's Note:**

> #PoorlyConcealedVentingForTheWin
> 
> For the record, this isn't my actual characterization for Sasori. I just needed to vent. It's also not exactly my best work - I wrote it at 3am in the middle of an existential crisis and don't want to read through it because I don't wanna cry again. 
> 
> Moral of the story: Sociopath does not equal unfeeling or unable to form attachments. Please educate yourself before society drives me to suicide, please and thank.


End file.
